Worst Case Scenario
by medicgirl
Summary: Someone wants revenge on Malloy, and knows just exactly how to hurt him the most. Now complete!
1. Chapter 1

"I appreciate you giving me a ride today, partner

"I appreciate you giving me a ride today, partner." Pete Malloy said to his best friend, Jim Reed, getting his jacket out of his locker. "You ready to head out?" He asked as they emerged from the locker room at the end of their Friday P.M. watch.

Reed nodded. "Yup. Just going to drop off these reports to Mac, and I'm out." He juggled a stack of paperwork as he tried to open the door. Before he could drop them all, Malloy reached around him and opened the door. Reed flashed him a grateful smile, and went through the open door.

Malloy had opened his mouth to tell Reed he'd meet him at the car, when the sergeant stuck his head out of his office. "Malloy, I need to talk to you."

Reed and Malloy looked at each other and shrugged. The older man headed toward the office, and his young counterpart followed. Of course, Reed was going so he could drop off his reports. Nothing else. Especially nothing like curiosity…

Malloy sat down in the chair across from the desk, and Reed leaned against the doorframe, hoping he wouldn't be noticed and therefore run off. His luck only held out part of the way, as Mac looked up at him, studied him for a moment, then motioned for him to join them. "Come on, Reed. As Pete's partner, this might affect you as well."

There was only one chair, so Reed slipped the rest of the way inside and stood against the back wall. Mac focused his attention back on Malloy. "Pete, you remember the name Preston James?"

Malloy tipped his head back and thought for a moment. "Preston James? I remember an Adrian James. He…I-" He cut off. "Oh…yeah.

Mac held up a hand to cut him off. "Preston James is Adrian James's brother."

Malloy turned a shade paler. "His brother…yeah…He was booked with the gang. ADW?"

Mac nodded. "His ten years ended yesterday."

Pete glanced over at Reed, and remembered he had to set a good example for the younger officer. "He's out, huh? Well, maybe he's learned his lesson and will just stay away from me." He started to stand up.

"Hold it, Malloy." Mac's tone clearly stated that he was being serious, and that this was not the time for bravado. "You shot this man's brother, and there has been a direct threat. As he was leaving, his cellmate asked him what he was going to do." Mac paused to look at a piece of paper on his desk. "He told him, and I quote 'I'm gonna find the pig that killed my brother and I'm gonna hurt him real bad. Like he hurt me.'" The sergeant looked Malloy directly in the eye. "This man's already made an attempt on your life ten years ago. And now it sounds like he wants another go at it."

Malloy shrugged. "It was a bad situation. I definitely won't deny that. But he's not the first one to hold a grudge, Mac. I'm sure there's nothing to it."

Mac nodded, confident that he had expressed his concerns. "Ok. Just want you to know the score, Pete." Malloy stood up, and headed for the door. Reed had fallen in behind him when Mac spoke again. "Listen, you two. I know he's not the first to hold a grudge, or the first to make threats. But this one, I believe. Reed, make sure your partner gets home safe, will ya?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"So," said Reed, glad that he had the opportunity to talk to Pete about whatever was going on. "Who's Preston James?"

Malloy made a face. "It's not going to do me any good to say I don't want to talk about it, is it?"

"Nope!" Jim said resolutely. "If some psycho is going to kill you, he's gotta go through me!"

The corner of Pete's mouth turned up into an almost-smile. "Easy, killer. Nothing's going to happen to me." He sighed. "It happened ten years ago. I was a rookie, and we got called to a 211 at McGuiness's jewelry store. Five armed men. They were still there when me and my partner got there. One started shooting. A bullet grazed Mike, my partner."

"Adrian?"

Malloy nodded. "Yup. Adrian James. I fired back. One shot. I was aiming for his shoulder, just trying to disable him." He unconsciously felt on his chest where his shooting qualification medal would be if he was still wearing his uniform. "I hit five inches up and to the left."

"A headshot…" Reed mulled it over. "And his brother tried to kill you once already?"

Malloy nodded. "Yeah. During the trial, he broke his thumb and got out of the handcuffs. The he grabbed the bailiff's gun and shot me. Right there in the courtroom."

Jim's eyes popped open wide. "He actually shot you?! Did he get you?"

Pete nodded again, and patted the outside of his left thigh. "Right here. Not bad. Guess I'm just a better shot. Or a worse one."

A look of worry cut across Jim Reed's young features. "And now he's out, and blames you for his brother's death. Pete, if you want to come stay with us…"

Pete shook his head and again out on the curtain of bravado to calm his partner. "Don't worry so much, partner. I'll be fine. It's not the first time some nut has threatened me."

"Yeah, but…" He trailed off.

"But what?" Pete said trying to hide a smile.

Reed looked down, then met his friend's eyes. "But that doesn't mean I have to like it. Listen, you know that you've got a place to go if you need it."

"I know," he said. "And I appreciate it. Now stop worrying. Nothing's going to happen to me. Someone's gotta look after you, ya know."

Reed grinned. "Yeah, I've just got you trained…I'd hate to have to get someone else up to my standards."

Malloy just raised his eyebrow, and shook his head. Reed smiled, and he returned the grin, then got out of the car. He started to walk toward his apartment building when Reed reached out the window and grabbed his arm. "I mean it, Pete. If you need anything, call me. You're part of the family."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The sun was starting to peek in the window when the phone woke Malloy from a dead sleep. "Hello?"

"Pete, it's Jean. Is Jim there with you?"

"Huh? Jean? No, haven't seen him." He rubbed his eyes, and tried to clear the fog from his mind. "I mean, he dropped me off last night. Is he not there?" Suddenly he was fully awake. Looking at the clock, he realized it had been almost seven hours since he and Reed had parted company. "Did he make it home at all?"

There was a pause. "I don't know. I stayed with my sister last night, and just got home. Little Jimmy is still with her. I just got home and he's not here. I thought he might have stayed with you."

Alarm bells were going off inside his head. "Jean, I'll be right over." He hung up the phone, and scrambled out of bed. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he pulled last night's t-shirt over his head and tried to calm the wave of fear creeping over him. Most likely, Reed had known Jean was staying with her sister and crashed at another friend's place. Malloy knew that wasn't true. As worried as Jim had been the night before, if he hadn't been going home to his wife he would have insisted on staying here. Okay, maybe he had gone home and just gotten up really early and went…somewhere. Maybe he even went to Jean's sister's to pick up Jimmy and the two passed each other on the way.

Or then there was the worst case scenario. Pete felt nauseated.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Glad you guys are still with me. I'm really enjoying writing this, and hope you're enjoying reading it. Actually, this story is such a stress reliever, as those of you who know me already might recognize the allusions I've made. But please review...please?

An hour later, Pete, Jean, and Mac had met at the station. Mac had called first Pete's apartment, then at the Reed's house where he finally got them. "Pete, you and Jean had better get down here right away." Mac didn't have to say anything past his name. The tone told him all he needed to know.

They rushed into Mac's office, and Pete saw a small box on the desk. "What's this?" he asked.

Mac looked at Jean sympathetically. "Mrs. Reed, you might find this upsetting…"

"Upsetting?!" Jean exclaimed. "My husband never made it home last night, you know something, and you want me to wait outside because it might be_ upsetting_?!"

Pete nodded at Jean's words. "What is it, Mac?"

The sergeant put on a pair of gloves he had nearby and reached into the box. He pulled out a bloody grey t-shirt with an LAPD badge pinned to it. "This was left on top of the Adam-12 squad car, addressed to you, Malloy. That's Reed's badge."

Jean let out a gasp and fell into the chair. Malloy touched the hem of the shirt. "It's the shirt Jim was wearing last night when he left." He swallowed the bile rising in his throat. "Oh, God." He wished Mac had another chair. He wasn't entirely sure his knees would be able to keep him upright. "Mac, what…?" He couldn't finish the thought, and had to start again. "Mac, who would want to hurt Jim?"

The dark-haired man's eyes said that he would rather do anything at all rather than tell his friend what he knew. He started to speak, then thought better of it and just handed him the plastic baggie with the note inside. The small piece of paper was also blood spattered, and simply said "TO BE CONTINED". It was signed PJ. Malloy's stomach turned to ice. "No!" Fear swelled within him and his vision got blurry.

"Huh?" asked Jean. "I don't understand! What's happened to Jim? Who is PJ?"

Malloy tried to calm himself. "His name is Preston James. And Jim is in real trouble."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The first thing Jim Reed was aware of was the pain. It seemed to be everywhere at once, covering him like a blanket. As he became more aware and began his self-assessment, he realized that his head hurt the most. He tried to pull his hands down to feel for damage, they caught above him. As he pulled to try to get them free, he felt the rough wood from the beam behind him tear into his bare back, and the bite of his own handcuffs around his wrists. He was sitting on what seemed like a concrete floor, leaning against the wooden support beam with his arms pulled over his head and handcuffed through a bolt about a foot above his head. And it was pitch black. This was not good.

Fighting hard to be his usual optimistic self, he said aloud in the darkness. "Well, at least they left me my pants." He wasn't sure at what point he lost his shirt, or really about anything that had happened. The last thing he remembered was stopping at the 7-11 for a loaf of bread. He remembered pulling in, opening his car door, and then- nothing. Waking up here. Wherever 'here' actually was.

He deliberately moved each part of his body slowly, checking for injuries. He seemed no worse for wear, other than being handcuffed to a piece of wood. The beam was approximately six by six, and by the feel it was completely solid. He pulled on the bolt with all his strength, but it wouldn't budge. There would be no breaking free that way. He twisted his hands around, but the cuffs were tight. He wasn't getting loose. All he could do was sit here and wait, completely at the mercy of whoever had him.

But Pete would find him. There wasn't a doubt in his mind of that. Pete was his best friend, his son's godfather, and the brother he had never had. Jim wasn't sure how long he had been gone, but as soon as he was missed, his partner would be on the case. He had stood by and watched as Pete was held hostage, that day at Duke's. It had without a doubt been the most terrifying day of his life. He would have done literally anything to get Pete out safely. He wanted so badly to give in to the gunmen's demands. If Mac and the others hadn't been there, he might have done just that. And he was sure Pete felt the same about him. But Pete had a lot of experience, and he would know exactly what to do. He would save him. But how long would it take? And what would happen to him in the meantime?

His thoughts were interrupted by a quiet click he recognized as the door opening. Deciding it was better to pretend to still be unconscious until he knew more, he flopped his head back and to the side. Suddenly, his ruse became a moot point when the brightest florescent lights Jim had ever seen were turned on. They seared his eyes, even through his eyelids. He momentarily flinched, and it gave him away.

Suddenly a hand roughly grabbed him by the hair and pulled his head upright. "Hi, there, Jimmy-boy!" said the man in with an evil grin. "Hope you're enjoying this meeting as much as I am."

Gathering his courage, he jerked his head out of the man's grip. "Not so far. The living arrangements leave a little to be desired." He studied his captor carefully. He was a somewhat small man with short, military-style red hair, green eyes, approximately 5'10". He memorized the features for future reference.

The man backhanded him, snapping his head back. Reed tasted blood in his mouth as his lip split. He turned to the side and split blood onto the rough concrete floor. "Who are you?" Reed demanded. "What do you want?"

The man grinned. "Well, now, where are my manners? My name is Preston James. And what I want is to make Pete Malloy suffer. He took my brother from me, now he's going to know how that feels!" He stepped back away from Reed, and walked over to a table in the small basement.

Preston picked up first a Polaroid camera and took a picture of Reed. It happened too quick for Reed to sit up straighter, or do anything to make himself not look pitiful. There was no doubt that the picture would go to Pete. It hurt him to think what his best friend would feel, seeing that picture. He was shirtless, scraped, his lip was busted, and he was slumped against a rough support beam in an unfinished basement. Ouch. Pete would be sick. God, he hoped Jean never saw that picture. He shook his head to clear it. Pete would never let that happen. He would take care of Jean for him. And little Jimmy. Even if…He fought that down. No! He was not going to die here. His partner would rescue him.

Then he watched as Preston put down the camera and picked up a metal pipe.


	3. Chapter 3

I just realized that I didn't have any disclaimers on this story yet...hmmm...well, I'm sure you guys knew I didn't own anything involved with this. But for the record, I am not affiliated with Adam-12, I don't own the characters. I just like to play with them. Besides, the original owners were done playing with them anyway.

After a nearly sleepless night on the Reed's couch, Pete woke up grumpy and sore. The detectives had been going over the box, the shirt, the badge, and the note since the morning before, but all that they could confirm was that the blood on the shirt was the same blood type as Jim. Preston James's fingerprints covered it all, but that didn't help much. They knew he was behind it.

Malloy had spent the previous day frantically hunting every lead they had to find him. First he had met with Preston's parole officer, who hadn't heard from him yet, then he checked out the diner where he was supposed to report for work that morning. There was really no surprise that he didn't show up, but it did leave them at another dead end. After that, he tried the address the parole officer had. It was empty. Didn't even have the power turned on.

None of the dead ends had been actually surprising, but they were extremely frustrating. By the time he got back to his L-car, Pete's jaw was aching from clenching his teeth and he had to forcibly unclench his fists to keep from punching something. He sat down heavily in the passenger seat. At the moment, he wasn't sure he could be trusted to speak to another person. He didn't know how much of this he could take.

Pete Malloy considered himself to be pretty tough. He could take pain, he had been shot a few times, broken bones, lost some pretty spectacular fights and had the bruises to show for it. But this…knowing that his best friend in the world was suffering for a bad shot that he had made years ago, before Reed was even out of high school…this was beyond what even the toughest man could endure. He'd rather go through it himself, whatever this bastard was doing to Reed.

He knew better than to his mind go there. Knew beyond a shadow of a doubt it was a bad idea, that he was just torturing himself, but if Reed was suffering physically for his mistake, then the least he could do was suffer a little mentally, wasn't it? So he sat there alone in the L-car and thought it over.

What was Preston doing to Jim? There was a lot of blood on that shirt. Was he already dead? No, he couldn't be dead! Not only because Pete refused to accept that, but because Adrian James had held on in a coma for a week. He was pretty sure that Reed would have at least that long. Besides, Preston would want to draw it out, make him suffer as long as he could. In a way, that was something to be thankful for.

That thought made his stomach turn alarmingly and he had to open the door in case he was actually going to throw up. What kind of friend was he, sitting here being thankful that his friend had been taken by a sadistic killer rather than one that would just shoot him in the head?! But Jim would want that, right? He'd be willing to suffer for a few days for a chance to see Little Jimmy grow up. Right? That didn't help his stomach. Or his heart.

This led him back to what was happening to Jim. Was he cold? Hungry? In pain? Scared to death? Probably all of the above. Did he know who had him? Why he was being held? Had the bastard actively tortured him, hurt him, or just stuck him somewhere to slowly starve to death. Without water, he would die in roughly the same timeframe as Adrian… Pete couldn't even begin to process that. But that was one of the kinder deaths he had seen. There were a million ways to cause pain, to damage a human, body and spirit. He just couldn't bear the thought of any of those things being done to Jim.

"1-Lincoln-7," The radio called, snapping him violently out of the darkness he was descending into. "See the watch commander, proceed code two."

Pete cleared his throat and tried to get his racing heart rate under control. When he trusted himself to speak, he answered. "1-Lincoln-7 copies."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

This time, Pete wasn't able to keep his feet, or pretend the tears that sprung to his eyes were anything but the emotional reaction he was denying. He didn't want to look at the stack of ten Polaroids laid out on Mac's desk, but he couldn't look away. He had to put his fist to his mouth and bite it, hard enough to leave teeth marks for almost an hour, to keep from trying to put it through the cinderblock wall. Finally, when he trusted himself to speak, he said, "Please, Mac, tell me Jean hasn't seen these."

The watch commander shook his head. "No way. When we find Reed, he would kill me!"

Hearing it said like that made Pete feel a fraction of a bit better. If Mac had hope…

The pictures were heart-wrenching to anyone, even if they didn't know Jim Reed. In the first one, he looked bad enough, slumped over and bleeding with his hands chained over his head and his feet stuck through a concrete block and tied, with several more piled on top. _A completely helpless position!_ The little policeman in Pete's head said. _For a cop, that much vulnerability is torture enough. _From that position, Reed was unable to defend himself against anything. He didn't even have to lay a hand on him to induce terror.

And hand or not, he had certainly laid _something_ to the young policeman. In the first one, he had a split lip, but seemed generally okay. In the next one, a smattering of bruises covered his face, one side of his chest, with a few across his arms. In the next one his left arm was clearly broken and his face was twisted with pain. In the next one there were more bruises across his chest, and he looked like he might have been screaming. That really got to Pete, more than any of the others so far. Reed had an insanely high tolerance for pain. He had witnessed several injuries his partner had sustained with barely a whimper, heard stories (from Jean…Jim would never brag about it) of him finishing a football game with a broken ankle, had seen him chase down a suspect with a bullet in his shoulder. Jim Reed did not scream.

They got progressively worse as they went. In the last one, his chest and stomach looked like just one solid bruise. His left arm was hanging from the handcuffs at a very wrong angle, and his face was swollen and bruised. His head was leaned back against the wooden post, and he was unconscious. Pete thought he might pass out. "God, Mac! He looks dead! Is he…?"

It was an irrational question, but Mac actually had an answer for him. "No, Pete. He's not." He handed him the note, again in a small bag. This was the hardest thing he had ever had to do. He was a sergeant and the watch commander, but these two men were his friends. He had trained Malloy the way Malloy had trained Reed. And if the pictures weren't enough to break his heart (and they were) the lost, terrified look on Malloy's face was.

Malloy read the note twice. "YOU SHOULD HAVE HEARD THE LITTLE PIGLET SCREAM. ALMOST AS NICE AS HEARING THE BONES SNAP. TOO BE CONTINUED. PJ."

Pete shook his head trying to clear away the images and get a grip on his pounding heart. "Why Jim, Mac? Why not just go after me? Jim would never hurt anyone! He was still wearing a football jersey when Adrian died!" He covered his face with his hands.

Mac was equally sickened by the pictures. He turned them face-down before answering Malloy. "You care a lot about your partner, don't you?"

"Of course I do!" Pete exclaimed. "I pick at him and give him Hell, but he's the best friend I've got!"

Mac nodded. "You'd do about anything for him, wouldn't you? Take every blow he took there just to spare him the pain?"

"Absolutely."

The sergeant's blue eyes met Malloy's green ones. "That's why he chose Jim."


	4. Chapter 4

This chapter is slightly graphic, although nothing I wouldn't have read at the age of 13 or so. But I'm a little rough on both our boys here, so you have been warned. Please Please Please review! Please? A happy write is a more prolific writer, remember?

Jim whimpered and tried to find a comfortable position. Well, ok, he tried to find a less agonizing position. He had taken a beating or two in his life, but never anything like this. Never had he been in such a situation in which he couldn't use his speed or his strength to get the upper hand. Being so helpless was almost as bad as the actual beating. But that was not to say the pain wasn't bad.

Oh, it was bad. Never in his life had he endured such excruciating pain. The broken ribs were bad. His head and face and stomach were bad. But his arm- there weren't even words to describe it. Preston had broken it first thing so he couldn't get any leverage to even squirm slightly away from blow after devastating blow with the metal pipe. It had almost worked in his favor though, as the pain had caused him to fade out for a moment. But even though he had missed the first few strikes, there were plenty more where those came from.

There were multiple long breaks in which he was left alone in the darkness with his pain. At first he was grateful for them, but when his captor came in, examined the newly-forming bruises, and went back out, he realized what the breaks were for. They were stopping so the bruises would show up better on the pictures he kept taking. Pictures to send to Pete, to hurt his best friend. He was no longer grateful.

When Pete saw those pictures, it would kill him. His friend tried so hard not to let his emotions show, but Reed knew Pete felt every pain he saw out on the streets. And now this…Reed had once been a little insecure about Malloy's feelings toward him, but that was years ago. He loved the older man like a brother, and knew his friend felt the same. Jim knew that Pete would rather be here himself than to let Jim be hurt in his place. He wished that he could do something to spare them both.

But there was absolutely nothing he could do. He tried to pull on his right arm again, and cried out as it jarred his shattered left one. Fighting back the tears, he shifted to take the weight off of it and sent flames shooting through his broken ribs. A tear fell slowly down his cheek. _Hurry up, partner!_ He thought. _I don't know how long I can stay strong._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Malloy had gone from near-sleepless to completely sleepless. He had stayed at the Reed house for the last two nights to help Jean. It had been so hard to not tell her about the pictures, solid proof that Jim was alive, and if she had expressed even the slightest doubt, he would have to. Even seeing the horrific shape her husband was in was better than worrying about him being dead. Surely Jim would understand that.

He had exhausted every lead they had. Preston had no other friends in the area, there was no trail to follow. They had found Jim's car in the parking lot of the 7-11. The door was still open and the battery was dead. There were also several drops of blood beside the driver's side, like Jim had been hit with something, hard, and went down. That had to be how they got him. Snuck up from behind. Pete was disgusted. Damn coward! But he remembered how small Preston was, especially compared to his brother, and a sneak attack was the only way he could get the drop on Reed.

Jimmy had woken up with a nightmare the night before, and had cried for his daddy for almost an hour. Pete was the only one who could comfort him. They had told him his daddy was still working, but that didn't work. His Uncle Pete was there, and "Daddy can't work without Unca' Pete!" Jean had fled the room in tears while Pete had spun some story about how his daddy was on a special job, for Mac. The boy knew Mac was daddy and Uncle Pete's boss, so that finally calmed him down. He finally got the exhausted toddler back into bed, and went to check on Jean.

He found her sitting in the floor of the bathroom, tears streaming down her face. Silent sobs wracked her body. He sat down in the floor beside her and pulled his knees up to his chest in a similar matter to hers. No one spoke for a moment, then Pete looked over at her and put a hand on her shoulder, just like he had her husband on multiple occasions when the job got to him. A dozen easy lies flowed through his mind, but he finally said the one thing he could be sure was the truth. "I know, Jean. I know."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Reed had almost cut through the rope holding his feet through the pile of cinderblocks, by rubbing it against the sharp corner of the block. He had scraped his foot a dozen times and cut it completely open twice when the door opened again. It was strange how such a simple noise and the new presence of light could bring such fear, such devastation, to a person. But Jim was badly wounded, dehydrated, starving, and helpless. His heart and stomach clenched violently as his tormentor stepped into the room. He tried to flinch back from his presence, but there was nowhere to go.

He walked over to a workbench for a moment. "Glad to see you, Jimmy!" Preston said cheerily. "How are you doing?"

Struggling to gather both his courage and his physical strength, he sat up straighter. "Go to Hell!"

He held up a bottle of water. "Uh-uh, now…here I brought you something, and if you can't be nicer than that…" He unscrewed the top and took a drink. "You've been here for three days…bet you're getting kinda thirsty."

That had to be the understatement of the century. Four weeks without food, four days without water, four minutes without air. If he didn't get that water, and soon, he was going to die. He glared at the man, hatred in his eyes, but his captor didn't flinch. Didn't even blink. It was obvious what he was waiting for.

No! Reed wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of hearing him beg. This bastard wasn't going to break him! He would die here first!

That resolve lasted until he thought of his son. And Jean. What would self-respect mean to a widow and a fatherless boy. And Pete. How would Pete feel if he let himself die? There was no way to keep him from feeling guilty, but it would eat him alive if Jim wasn't there to snap him out of it. He had to be strong. And this time, being strong meant being weak. He dropped his gaze. "Please. Please give me some water?"

Preston grinned broadly. "So, you do still have some manners in you, boy. Of course you can have some water!" He held the water over Jim's mouth and poured the whole bottle on his face. Reed managed to get a few precious ounces before he got strangled and began sputtering. The water burned in his airways as he gasped for air. Finally he was able to speak. "Bastard!" he choked out.

"You are going to have to learn some manners, boy!" He pulled back from Reed and went to his feet. "Now, look. You've almost pulled these ropes loose. Can't have that." He looked up at Reed's face and smiled. "Not that you could go very far." He went over to a workbench and picked up a chain and a padlock. We can fix that." He wrapped the chain very tightly around his ankles, repining them through the holes in the block. "Now that's taken care of. Lets deal with your lesson in manners."

He picked up the pipe and swung it downward. It struck squarely across the sole of Jim's foot. There was no crying out here. He screamed with pain. Three more times the sociopath hit his foot with the pipe, and by then Jim's screams were barely making it out of his parched throat. By the fifth one, he wasn't even able to respond. When the sixth one fell, he was unconscious.

Preston laughed and went to the workbench. There, he dropped the pipe and spoke into the tape recorder he had used to record the last "session". "Okay, Malloy. This ends soon. Your friend is running out of time. They let me out of jail to say goodbye to my brother, Now I'm giving you a chance. Meet me at South Falls Pawn Shop tomorrow at 6 am sharp. Come alone, of course. If you don't show, he dies. If I smell any bacon besides you, he dies. And I promise, it will not be a pleasant death. Sweet dreams, and you can comfort yourself and the poor little widow with this: Her man won't suffer much longer." He clicked it off and took the tape out. "Now, time to drop this on your front door, buddy," he said to Jim's unconscious form. "If this one goes to the station, they won't let your partner do the right thing. And I want him here to watch you die."


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Sorry it's been a few days since I updated, but I've been out of town and my dad has no internet access. Sorry this is a little short, but I hope to update again today or tomorrow, depending on how this shift goes. There should be only one or two more chapters left, I'm almost done. Did you enjoy it? Hate it? I've had a lot of readers, but very few reviews. Come on, please review? Pretty please? I'll give you a cookie?

It was midnight when Pete went outside. Jean was out of milk, and just generally seemed to need a moment to herself. So he volunteered to go get some. He put on his jacket and went out to his car, which one of the guys had been kind enough to pick up for him, and the box was sitting in his front seat. His heart rate suddenly tripled. He saw his name scrawled across the top in a red marker, and knew it held proof of more hideous things that were done to his friend. He knew he should take it in, wait for the detectives to go over it, but they had gone over the others and found nothing. And this one was in his car. In the Reed's driveway. That meant they knew where he was, and had been watching him. They were probably watching him right now…

The hair stood up on the back of his neck stood up and he resisted the urge to look over his shoulder. If this maniac was watching, the last thing Pete wanted to do was give him the satisfaction of knowing he was spooked. He calmly sat down in his seat, and opened the box. Another heartbreaking picture of Jim, bleeding and unconscious, and a cassette tape. Pete stared at it for a split second, wishing he had upgraded the 8-track player in his car to the new technology. Where was he going to play it? They had one at the station for training purposes, but it would take him over an hour to get there, sign it out, and actually be able to listen. Plus, he just didn't want to have to deal with other people when he heard it.

But Jim had been bragging about the new stereo he and Jean had gotten such a deal on. He had just gotten it a few weeks ago, surely it had a cassette player! And he knew it had headphones, that had been one of the selling points. Jim and Jean could listen to music when Jimmy was asleep. He set the box aside and forced himself to walk calmly back inside.

Jean was in her bedroom, so Pete went over to the stereo, fumbled with the tape, and finally got it in right. When he hit play, he heard Preston's voice first, low and gravelly in such an odd contrast to his small, compact appearance. The voice gave the impression of a much larger, more menacing-looking person, and even though he knew what this bastard looked like it was hard not to imagine someone much bigger and scarier standing over Reed.

"_Glad to see you, Jimmy! How are you doing?"_

"_Go to Hell!"_

Malloy almost cheered at not only hearing Reed's voice, but in hearing him fight back against his tormentor. Then his smile faded as he heard Preston taunting Reed with the water. It made him sick. The rest of it was bad, but torturing a dehydrating man with s bottle of water…Not for the first time, he wanted to get his hands on the little son of a…anyway, when he did, he would strangle the life out of him! He listened to the almost 30 seconds of silence, knowing what Preston wanted, knowing Reed knew what he wanted, and willing him to say it. "Come on, buddy. Now's not the time to be brave. I know you're a stubborn guy, but don't die over being stubborn. Even if you did learn from the best."

"Pete? Pete, what are you listening to? Did you get the milk?"

He hit the pause button and ripped the headphones off, turning quickly to face Jean. "Uh…its nothing. When Wells brought my car back, I guess he left this tape in there. I just wanted to see what was on it."

"Oh," she said. "What is it?"

He shrugged. "I'm not sure what to call it. You know Wells…" He forced a smile he was sure she would be able to see through, but she smiled back.

"Nothing he would listen to would surprise me. And don't worry about the milk. I'll just go pick it up in the morning. I need to get out of the house. Me and Jimmy will go pick some up and go to the park." Her voice broke a little. "He needs something normal to keep him calm."

Pete nodded, not sure what to say and only a quarter his mind was on what she was saying. The rest was worrying about what was on the remainder of the tape held. Would Jim break down and ask for the water? Would it be the last time it was offered? They were running out of time. It had been almost four days. Had Jim had anything to drink? Did it hurt to die of thirst?

When he stopped staring at the floor lost in thought, she was gone. He hurriedly put the headphones back on and hit play. Another few terrifying seconds of silence, and he heard his friend's voice again, weak and without a hint of its earlier defiance. _"Please. Please give me some water."_

Malloy actually sank to his knees on the carpet, concurrently glad Jean was no longer there and fighting against throwing up. Never in his life had anything broken his heart the way hearing Jim's completely broken voice had. The choking gasps that followed were almost as bad, but made somewhat better when he cleared his airway and questioned his captor's parentage. He almost had the fire back in his voice that had been missing from his plea. But his stomach dropped when he heard the man's next words. _"You need to learn some manners, boy." _Oh, that couldn't be good!

The sounds that followed tore into Malloy's guts in a particularly vicious manner. A thud, then Jim screaming. Another thud, another scream, but weaker this time. Another thud, a scream that was little more than a cry. The thud came again, and a pained gasp. Then one last thud. This one got no response from the captive. Malloy's tears were falling, and he wasn't even bothering to wipe the moisture away. Before he could begin to process this, he heard his nemesis speak again, addressing him this time.

When the recording clicked off, he very calmly stood up and wiped his face on the sleeve of his t-shirt. Checking his watch, he had five hours before he would go rescue Jim and kill the man who hurt him.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: I was planning on finishing up the whole rescue thing in this chapter, but it just wouldn't happen. My sadistic side got the best of me. Why end it so soon? And really...would any true revenge-driven psychopath let it be over that easily? He has Malloy now, the one that he really wants to hurt. He's not going to cooperate with my plan. You know how it is with psychos... they won't listen to anyone, not even their creator...

Jean had gone to bed, and hadn't noticed that Pete had left. He had preparations to make, and things to do. Knowing neither her nor Jimmy would be up until late, as it had been a long few days, and she had been exhausted, he left a note on the table.

Jean,

I've gone to try to save Jim. South Falls Pawn Shop.

By the time you get this, it will all be over, one way

or the other. Hopefully I can get Jim back to you in

one piece. I'm so sorry about all this. Tell Little Jim

that I love him like he was my own. God bless you all.

Love,

Pete

It was five thirty when he pulled in across the street from the pawn shop. He checked his weapon once more and felt for the ankle holster that he wasn't used to wearing, then flexed his other ankle to test the knife he had strapped there. He felt ridiculous, like this was something Ed Wells would be into, but he couldn't walk in there unprepared. There was little chance that he could get him or Reed out alive, but he had to give it everything he had.

There was no doubt in his mind that if it came down to an exchange, he would give his life for Reed's. He knew that was most likely why he was there, and was willing to accept that. This was between him and Preston. It had nothing to do with Reed. And if he had to die to get his best friend out of this madman's hands, then so be it. But deep down, he knew the odds were bad that either of them would come out alive. There was no way, though, that he was not going to do everything in his power to save Jim. He couldn't live with himself if there was any doubt. The guilt would eat him alive.

He got out of his car and walked over to the pawn shop, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt back so that it didn't interfere with his peripheral vision. There was a bench in front of the store, so he sat down and waited. The sun was starting to come up, and he watched it, trying to be calm. His heart was racing, and he didn't know what was going to happen in the next few hours.

A man in a large, bulky sweatshirt walked slowly up the sidewalk. He was a small man, around 5'10", but he had on a cap, sunglasses, and still had his hood up. Besides, Malloy hadn't seen Preston James in almost ten years. But he watched out of the corner of his eye as the man sat down beside him. "It's a good day to die, isn't it, officer Malloy?"

Lightning-quick, Pete had his gun pointed at the man. "Okay, Preston. Where's Jim?"

Preston seemed unperturbed by the .38 pointes at his chest. "You're not going to shoot me, Malloy."

Pete raised his eyebrow. "Oh, I'm not? And why shouldn't I?" But he was pretty sure

He knew where this was going.

Preston grinned. "Because by the time you find your friend on your own, he'll die. From dehydration, hunger, or the cold, I don't know. But he's not got much time left. Give me your gun, and I'll take you to him."

Pete almost bit a whole through his lip, but he had expected that. It was okay, though. He had a backup. And the knife. Reluctantly, he handed it over.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Reed woke with a start from his fitful doze at Malloy's voice calling his name. He sat up and cleared his throat. "Pete! I'm over here!" His voice was little more than a croak, but Malloy felt a huge weight lifted off his shoulders. He wasn't too late.

Their captor shoved Malloy inside the room, hands cuffed behind him, and Reed's heart sank. Pete had been his last hope of getting out of this alive. As the door slammed behind him, locking them both inside, it occurred to him. Maybe he had a plan. Pete wouldn't have let himself get caught without a plan…

Preston shoved Malloy to the floor. He tried to turn to his side to break his fall, but just wasn't quick enough. At the last second he was able to turn his head slightly to avoid breaking his jaw, but the left side of his head still hit the concrete. That half of his face would be one solid bruise in the morning. Assuming either of them lived that long.

He rolled over and tried to sit up. "Reed? You okay?"

Jim actually managed a smile. At least he wasn't alone anymore. "A little worse for wear. Good to see you."

Pete looked at him, visually assessing his injuries. They looked so much worse in person than they did in the pictures. The bruises were not only badly discolored, but swollen. His ribs were a mass of knots Pete knew covered fractures. His abdomen was distended, and his face was bloody and bruised. Hanging limply in his handcuff, his broken arm was swollen to roughly the size of the young man's thigh, and the cuff cut deeply into the enlarged wrist. The chain and blocks had been removed from his feet, but they wouldn't do him any good. The soles were badly swollen and bruised, probably had a few bones broken. That must have been what the screaming on the cassette had been about. Malloy had heard of that kind of torture, happening in Vietnam or something, but the thought of anyone doing that to Reed… Tears sprang to his eyes. "Oh, Jim…"

Reed made a face, knowing what Malloy was feeling. If he had ever seen Pete in this shape…His stomach churned, and not from hunger or fear this time. "It's not as bad as it looks, partner."

Malloy managed a half-smile. "You're lying."

Reed snorted. "Yeah, I am."

Pete managed to sit up after flopping around like a fish for several moments, and looked Reed in the eye. "I'm gonna get you out of this, buddy. It's going to be okay."

Reed maintained the eye contact. "Now you're lying."

Pete looked away and didn't answer. That said more than words.


	7. Chapter 7

I hope this chapter lives up to expectations, some of yours and some of mine. It was hard to write, but fun to write, and if I got a little too deep into the emotions, blame it on the fact that it's one in the morning and I have been watching the show all day. I hope you enjoy it and again, please, please review. As I have said nefore in other stories, a happy paramedic is a good paramedic, so technically by reviewing, you guys are saving lives too!

They were only left alone for a few minutes before their kidnapper returned for the next round of fun. He grabbed Malloy by the arms and propped him up against the far wall facing Reed. Being dragged by his arms from behind like that hurt, but he bit back the groan before it escaped. Reed had already suffered God only knew what, and he wasn't about to show pain over something so simple.

"Sorry to break up the nice little reunion, boys, but there's business to attend to." He turned his back on Malloy, and addressed Reed. "Now, Jimmy-boy, you know that your buddy Pete killed my brother. Do you have a brother?"

"No," said Reed, trying hard to keep his eyes on Preston and off his partner. "I have a sister." _And Malloy…_

"Well, then…try this on for size. Imagine you're tied up somewhere, maybe like you are right now. Some creep gets ahold of her and rapes her, right there in front of you, makes you watch and listen to her scream." Jim tried to fight back thoughts of Jane, not let this man play with his mind. "That's what your partner did to me."

Reed scowled. "You brother shot his partner! I'd have killed him too!" This show of bravado earned him a backhand across his already damaged face. Pete winced at the sound of flesh striking flesh, but to the younger officer's credit, he didn't even flinch. Jim wiped the fresh blood on his shoulder and looked at his assailant with such venom it scared Malloy. "Hit me if you want," he said with a perfectly level voice, "but that won't change basic right and wrong. Malloy's in the right, your brother is in Hell, and you're not far behind him!"

Preston drew his hand back to hit Reed again, his fist closed this time, but Malloy just couldn't watch it again. "Leave him alone!" He growled in the fearsome voice that made criminals on the street stop in their tracks and terrified Reed to the deepest pit of his soul his first few months on the force. Unfortunately, it lost some of ifs power when the one who wields it is handcuffed and unable to even get himself to his feet.

Preston turned to him with a smirk. "What's the matter, Malloy? Wanting to protect your little friend?"

"This is nothing to him, you sorry piece of scum! This is between me and you. I killed your brother. Ten years ago, before Reed here even had to shave every day! This has nothing to do with my partner!"

He seemed to consider that for a moment. "You said your partner. You didn't say your friend."

That confused Pete. "Yeah. I said partner. Reed's my partner. You obviously know that, or he wouldn't be here."

"So he's just your partner? Not your best friend, the closest thing you have to family around here? Not your brother?"

Malloy flinched inwardly. So that was where that was going. He looked up and his eyes met Reed's. _Please understand, Jim. I'm trying to protect you. I'm sorry if it hurts._ "Of course not! He's my partner! We work together!"

Preston's smirk turned into a full-out evil grin. "So you surrendered your guns and walked in here handcuffed and completely unarmed just to help out a fellow officer? Tell me, do they give you the medal of valor for that, or lock you up in a place with padded walls? If he means nothing to you, then I'll shoot him now and get him out of the way." He turned and raised Pete's gun toward Reed and pulled the hammer back. Reed let his eyes fall closed. He was so tired…

"No!" Pete exclaimed throwing himself forward but falling way short of the would-be killer. But he got the attention back onto him.

"So," Preston said, hauling Malloy back against the wall and hooking the chain of the cuffs around a nail in the wall and bending it up. It wouldn't hold for long, but then…it shouldn't need to. "You're just his partner, but you try to get in the line of fire to keep me from shooting him. Tell me the truth or he gets shot."

"Okay," said Malloy, resigned. "We're more than just partners. He is my best friend and the brother I never had. I'd do anything for him. That's why I'm here. Now, do whatever you want to do to me, but let Reed go."

He considered it. "Okay, Malloy. I'll tell you, what I went through was an absolute nightmare. I wouldn't wish the horror of watching the person you care most about in the world die on anyone. Not even you. So I'll tell you what…How about I shoot you between the eyes, end it fast?"

"And Reed?"

"Reed walks away…so to speak. But you have to ask nicely."

Malloy looked at his partner, his friend, his brother. He couldn't let anything else happen to him. "Ok. You got a deal. My life for Reed's."

Reed struggled violently with the handcuffs, despite the agony tat flared through his arm. "Pete, no! Don't do it!" He fought hard to get loose, but there was nothing he could do. Tears began falling again. "Pete, I'm not worth it!"

Preston put Malloy's off-duty pistol to his forehead. "I had time to say goodbye. Now's yours. Tell your brother goodbye, just like I had to."

Pete didn't need a second invitation. "Reed, he's right. You are my brother in everything but blood. I couldn't have loved you more if it had been by blood. You're my best friend and you saved not only my career but also my sanity."

Reed was openly sobbing now. "Please, don't kill him! Take me instead!"

"No!" Malloy exclaimed. "No, Jim, you have to leave here and go back to Jean and Little Jimmy. And you have to take care of them both and when he gets older make sure my Godson remembers me. Teach him to be just like you, and you'll have a damn fine boy on your hands. I love him like my own, and you and Jean too. Get out of here alive, be strong, have faith, and you'll be okay." He stared at Jim until he met his gaze. "It's okay."

"How touching…" Preston said. "Goodbye, Malloy." Without hesitating for another second, he pulled the trigger.


	8. Chapter 8

This has been about the fastest I have ever put out a multichapter story, but I have really enjoyed this one. I have gotten a lot of reviews for a show that went off the air when my mom was in high school. There will be probably one more chapter to this, but this is where the majority of the action ends. Hope I didn't let anyone down with this ending. Thanks for reading!

The dry click of an empty chamber echoed through the room, and Jim's sob of relief was the only other sound. Pete felt the flood of adrenaline recede, leaving nausea and weakness in its wake. He looked up to meet Jim's eyes, to assess the damage. Reed was beside himself, still struggling with his cuffs. "Easy, Jim. You're just hurting yourself."

Reed didn't answer, but the look in his blue eyes said it all. _Don't ask me to just sit here and take it, partner. I can't do that. I gotta at least try._

Pete's look answered sufficiently. _I know, buddy. I'm sorry. Just don't hurt yourself worse. Please hang on_.

Preston seemed to delight in the wordless communication. "Now, boys. Don't you know its impolite to leave someone out of the conversation?" Neither of them answered him, and he shrugged. "Okay, if you don't want to talk, then we'll get down to business." He walked over to Malloy and grabbed his pant leg, pulling it up to expose the knife holster, and slowly removed the knife. "Well, now, what's this? Reed, what do you think about this? Your partner thinks he's John Wayne or something. Now, Malloy, what were you planning to do with this?"

Malloy took a look at Reed, his anger taking precedence over his common sense. "I plan on sticking it in your gut!" He practically growled.

"Really…? Now that's interesting. Not to mention a good idea. Answer me this, though…why my gut? Why not my throat, or my eye? Something to kill me quick and get you and your buddy out of here?"

"Because," Malloy replied, losing the fight to keep his voice level, "I walked out the door this morning vowing to make you hurt. And now that I've seen what you did to him, I want that even more!"

Preston considered it. "Well, then, Malloy…I guess we understand each other." He walked over to where Reed watched, wide-eyed. "Again, thanks for the good idea." He plunged the knife into Reed's abdomen.

Jim didn't have enough air in his lungs to scream in pain, but the choked gasp was drowned out by Pete shouting his name. He wanted to answer him, wanted to tell him that it was going to be okay. But he couldn't manage it. He was just so tired…

Preston turned back to Pete, who was screaming his partner's name and frantically trying to loosen the nail he was fastened to. "Now, in a few minutes, I'll get the body out of here and we can get down to our real business. But for now, feel free to talk to your partner. I'm sure he will be able to hear you for another few minutes. Maybe."

Pete was frantically pulling at his hands, tears flowing freely as he tried to keep up a coherent stream of reassurances to Reed. "It's gonna be okay, buddy, gonna be fine, I just gotta get loose and I'll get us out of here and get you to a doctor. You'll be okay!"

He finally had to stop to breathe, and Reed gathered the strength to answer, although his voice was so weak and shaky it was hardly reassuring. "Pete?"

"Yeah?" The nail was starting to give way. Just a few more minutes…but deep in his heart he knew Jim probably didn't have a few more minutes. He needed a hospital, and fast.

"Its okay, Pete…Doesn't hurt much…" He struggled to sit up a little more, and hissed in pain as moving caused the knife in his stomach to shift.

"Just hold still, Jim!" Pete shouted.

But Reed wasn't finished. If this was the last time he got to speak to his friend, he would get it out. "Not your fault…don't forget…you didn't cause this." He struggled for breath to continue. "Take care…Jean and Jimmy…tell them…love them?"

"Of course! You know I would. But you're gonna be fine! You can tell them yourself!" He tore frantically at the handcuff chain. Blood flowed from his abraded wrists, but he paid it no mind. He was almost free.

Reed looked at him with sympathy, and that made Pete even sicker. Jim was the one with a new hole in his body, and he was worried about his partner. "Dying…" Jim said. "Sorry…good friend, Pete…Good partner, too…So sorry…"

The lump in Pete's throat was so big he wasn't sure how he was breathing around it. "You too, Jim. You too." Satisfied that he had expressed what needed saying, Reed went limp.

Pete's blood froze. "No! Jim!"

Preston looked over at him with the concern of a little boy frying ants with a magnifying glass. "Wow…I never stabbed anyone before. I thought it would take longer." He walked over to Reed's lifeless body and checked the wrist for a pulse.

"Is he…?" Pete couldn't bring himself to say the word. He just could not accept that Jim Reed was dead.

"Yup," Preston said. "That was kinda anti-climactic." He pulled out the key and began unlocking the handcuffs.

Grief slammed into Pete like a sledgehammer to the chest, and it pushed him hard enough to pull the nail loosed from the wall. He threw himself forward and through some miracle of gravity and physic, the momentum propelled him to his feet. He charged at the red-headed man, no semblance of a plan, no idea how he was going to tear him to pieces with his hands behind his back, just sure that he was going to do it.

Unfortunately, it didn't work that way. Blind rage could give you the upper hand in a fight, but you had to have an actual hand first. Preston saw him coming, picked up the pipe, and slammed it across Malloy's midsection with home-run force. Unable to take in any air, he dropped back to the ground.

His attacker stood over him with the pipe. "I guess this is over now." He raised the pipe over his head to strike the killing blow. Pete closed his eyes and sent a brief prayer heavenward that it would be quick. And that he would meet Jim there.

Just as he realized that it was taking too long and started to open his eyes, a sound came from his attacker. It wasn't so much a cry as a yelp, an expression of surprise and pain. His eyes popped open to see Preston fall to his knees, and Reed on his behind him. As the psychopath fell forward, Malloy saw the knife sticking out of his back. From the location, Reed got it directly into their attacker's heart. He managed a smirk at Pete. "Got him!"

Malloy was speechless. "Jim? But I thought you were…?" Even seeing his friend alive and breathing, he couldn't make himself say the word 'dead'.

Reed winced. "I'm sorry, Pete. I had to. It was the only way he'd let either of us go." He fished in the dead man's pocket for the handcuff key. "And it didn't take much playing. I've lost a lot of blood." He found the key and crawled over to where Malloy was. His hands were shaking so badly that he couldn't even get it in the lock.

Reed's remaining strength reserves failed him, and he collapsed beside his partner. "I'm sorry, Pete. I can't. You gotta go get help. I'm done."

Suddenly the door exploded inward, and a shout preceded the business end of an LAPD service weapon. "Police!" Mac yelled. "Everybody freeze!"

Relief flooded Malloy. "It's clear, Mac! Call an ambulance! Reed's hurt. Bad!"

Mac, Wells, Brinkman, and Woods rushed into the room. Overcome by relief, Pete slid down on the floor and laid beside his partner. "What took so long, Mac? Reed had to come back from the dead and everything!"


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Well, this is it. I actually finished it. I hope this ending lives up to what you guys hoped. I tried to end it on a light note, but the story was just too heavy for it to work. So I ended it in the manner of every bad call a cop, firefighter, or medic ever has: A bad joke and a forced "I'm fine". That's the way it is for us in the real world, it should be no different for Reed and Malloy. Enjoy, please review, and let me know what you think I should do for my next story. I take challenges!

Reed woke with a start, reflexively pulling his arms up to protect himself from the horrors of the past few days, but instead of the rough voice of his tormentor, he heard his partner's soothing voice. "Easy, Jim! It's okay, you're safe, you're okay. You're at the hospital, Preston's dead, it's okay!" Gentle hands took hold of his biceps, and eased him back down on the bed as he opened his eyes.

Seeing his best friend, he relaxed. "Pete? You're okay?"

Hearing Reed's voice, weak and tired but basically intact, brought a lump to his throat again. "Yeah, buddy. I'm okay. Calm down! You might have pulled some of those stitches loose!"

His head still fuzzy, he looked at Pete. "I thought I was still there. Dreamed he killed you. Just put a gun to your head and shot you." His voice thickened to a husky whisper. "I dreamed I watched you die!" His chin trembled as his badly weakened condition inhibited his ability to control his emotions.

Pete took in a deep breath. "I got you beat, partner. I had to watch you die twice."

"Twice?" Reed asked. "What do you mean?"

"You gonna stop thrashing?" Malloy asked.

Reed looked confused until he realized his friend still had him by the arms. "Yeah."

Malloy sat back down. "What's the last thing you remember?"

Jim frowned. "Not sure…lots of weird dreams…Did I shoot Preston?"

"Almost. You stabbed him. You played dead, and very convincingly. I believed it. Fortunately, so did he. Then Mac came in. I had left Jean a note and she called Mac. The ambulance brought you here."

"You said twice." Reed wasn't going to let it go that easily.

"Yeah, uh, well…" He paused. Reed wasn't really strong enough for this, didn't need to know what he had put them through just yet.

But Jim wasn't one to let things go. "What happened, Pete?"

His eyes dropped to the ground. Even with his friend alive, alert, and talking to him, it was so difficult to talk about. Reed wasn't the only one having nightmares. There hadn't been a night yet that he didn't wake up in a cold sweat, hearing the blood-chilling whine of the monitor when his best friend's heart had flatlined. "Jim, do you know what day it is?"

Reed thought real hard, but came up blank. "I kinda lost track. I couldn't tell day from night in there. He said it was three days, but I don't…" He trailed off.

"We were rescued on Friday. This is Wednesday."

Reed's eyes widened. "Wednesday?! Pete, what happened? Why was I out so long?!"

He finally sucked it up and told him. "You lost a lot of blood. The reason Preston believed you were dead was because you didn't have a radial pulse. When we got you in here, your blood pressure was 60 over 40. You coded in the ER. You were dead for almost three minutes."

Jim was quiet for a moment, letting it sink in. "I was actually dead. Oh, man…was Jean there? Were you in there?" Pete didn't answer and that was all he needed. "Oh, God. Pete, I…" There was no way to finish it. _Sorry I died on you? Sorry I put you through that?_ "Is Jean okay? Where is she?"

He tried again to sit up, and Malloy rushed to his bedside and put a firm hand on his shoulder. "You said you were done flailing around!"

"I'm not flailing!" He insisted, still trying to get up, still too weak to shrug off Pete's hand. "I'm just trying to get up! I've got to find Jean! If she watched me die, I have to find her!" He was bordering on panic, and his struggles were getting even more frantic.

Pete planted one hand on his friend's arm and one on the least bruised area of his chest. "Easy! Stop and listen to me! Listen, Reed, calm down! Please, just listen! Jean is fine!"

Sweat was pouring down his pale face, and he was hyperventilating. Alarms started sounding. Reed's heart rate had gone from a safe, steady 86 to 134 in a matter of seconds. "I have to get to my wife, tell her I'm okay!"

"Right now you're not okay! You want to scare her to death again?! Calm down!"

Reed finally got ahold of himself, stopped struggling, and tried to control his breathing. "I'm sorry. You took care of Jean, didn't you? Told her I'd be okay?"

Malloy nodded. "Yup. I was there for her. She's in the waiting room, asleep. I finally made her take a nap. You want me to go wake her up?"

He thought for a moment, then shook his head. "No. She needs some sleep, I bet."

Pete nodded. "Yeah. She's been at your side pretty much the whole time." He finally sat down in the chair beside the bed.

Jim held up his left arm, studying the cast covering the lower part down to his hand. "I knew I must have been out for a while. Had some horrific dreams. When had the ones about watching you die…"

"More than one?"

Reed continued to study his cast. "Yeah. Several. Every bad scrape we've ever gotten into came back at me with…shall we say undesirable outcomes. Every time, I was frozen in my tracks and had to watch you die. The robbers at Duke's, Steve Deal, Preston, and every other close call we've ever had. It was horrible." He stopped, and looked up to meet his partner's eyes. "But deep down somewhere, I knew it was all a dream. I can't imagine what it would feel like to be for real. When he pulled that trigger…But for you…and Jean…it was real. I'm so sorry, Pete."

Malloy's brow furrowed. "Sorry? For what?! For getting beat almost to death…beg your pardon, _actually_ getting beat to death? Jim, if anyone here gets to apologize, it's me!"

Reed took in a pained breath. "Not your fault. You certainly could have picked a better place to be for a few days off."

Pete smiled. If Reed wanted to joke about it, he could live with that. "Hey, I just followed you, partner. Next time, I pick the resort!"

The badly wounded man started to laugh, but it turned into a groan as it jostled his tightly-wrapped ribs. "Come on! It hurts to laugh!"

Malloy chuckled. "So I take it you don't want to hear about the two penguins that walked into the bar?"

Jim tried not to laugh, but he couldn't help it. "Pete! Haven't I been tortured enough?"

Pete turned around so Jim couldn't see the smile fall from his face. Joking was good, but it didn't let him say what he needed to say. "Jim?"

"Yeah?"

Malloy turned back to look him in the eye. "Yeah, you've been through a lot this last few days. But when your heart stopped, I think mine did too." He paused to clear the lump from his throat. "So, what I guess I'm trying to say is, can you please not put me through anything like that again?"

Jim put out the hand on his unbroken arm to take Pete's hand. He closed his eyes, trying to absorb some of the agony his friend had endured while he was out. "Okay, pal. I guess I can do you this one favor."


End file.
